Capri is our little monkey boy. He simply can not stay out of trouble. If there is something to get into, something to explore, or some activity to interrupt, it is his mission in life to do so. But it was not always so. He was one of the unfortunate babies who lost his mother tragically when he was just a young kitten. The trauma of that event left him absolutely terrified of any human contact for a long period of time. He did eventually regain a certain degree of trust under our loving care, and in time, that trust nurtured the development of a far too reckless and adventuresome spirit.
This boy is a constant worry for me. Although he still harbors considerable mistrust of the world at large, his judgment is often impaired, and he finds himself in compromising situations far too much of the time. Not exactly a rocket scientist among cats, Capri doesn’t seem able to stay out of harm’s way. Fortunately, the harm most frequently seeking out this poor boy comes in the shape of Billy. Billy and Capri can’t stand each other, and Billy will often chase the younger feline up the oak tree in the front yard. Although Capri is undeniably afraid of this white demon cat, he will take advantage of the opportunity to exact revenge if he finds Billy sleeping soundly in plain view. His swat-and-run technique no doubt offers him some small feeling of accomplishment and bravery, and he knows I will keep him safe from any immediate retaliation suffered at the claws of Bill, even when he so clearly asks for it. The far more frequent and completely innocent recipient of Capri’s cowardly vengeance is Billy’s half-brother, Bitsy. Capri knows Bitsy will do nothing to defend himself, and he uses that knowledge anytime he feels the need to vent his anger at the other white cat. I often have to come to Bitsy’s defense when he falls victim to Capri through no fault of his own.
Bitsy isn’t necessarily Capri’s only victim, however. In spite of the fact that he used to spend long periods sitting in front of the bathroom mirrors admiring himself in his youth, our monkey-boy has a poor self-image. His frustrations are often taken out on other feline family members. Though Bitsy is his favorite and most regular target, he has also been known to act aggressively toward all three of his female cousins. He is not, however, so foolish as to stand up to the Queen of the Domain, or to his brother, Noddy, who is nearly twice his size and no pushover.
On a more loving note, Capri absolutely adores the canine members of the family. There has never been a moment’s hesitation on his part in these relationships, not even when Aspen initially growled and snapped at the babies. Capri just kept up the charm and wouldn’t be denied their company.
Capri and The Moondog – best of friends
This boy can be quite happy-go-lucky and relaxed – so relaxed, in fact, that I sometimes drape him across my shoulders and use his body heat to soothe my neck muscles after long hours at the computer. I sometimes wonder if he possesses a skeletal structure at all; he is the flattest, most flexible feline I’ve ever known. He also absolutely adores water and will come racing from anywhere in the house when he hears water running. He will hold his head under a light stream from a faucet, lapping up the water as it drips off his nose and cheeks. Rain is no deterrent either. Unless there’s a major downpour, and sometimes even then, he will stand oblivious out in the open till soaked to the skin. I can only assume the other cats think he’s nuts. I know I do. But then, I’ve always been attracted to those who are a little off-beat. 🙂
Postscript
Our beloved monkey-boy disappeared on September 8, 1999. It was the same day we had an antenna repairman out to work on our antenna. I never knew if Cappy hitched a ride to parts unknown in the service van that day, or if he met his fate in the woods surrounding our farm. I called the stops the repairman made after he left here, but no one reported seeing our little boy. I like to think Capri is still out there somewhere, working his boyish charm on an adoring family. I also can’t help but occasionally look into the branches of the oak tree outside our front door hoping to see his big owly eyes waiting for me to come to his rescue. In any event, my heart will not permit me to call this an obituary. It is, instead, an unresolved longing. We love you, Cappy, wherever you may be.